Carl And Patrick - A Fanfiction
by KillerWithin
Summary: Carl and Patrick are two of the eldest 'kids' living at the prison. They've been friends for a while, sure, but only with Patrick's ever-growing crush on the younger boy. When they slowly begin getting closer, though, what will happen? Could two teens find happiness in a world that's been destroyed?
1. Chapter 1

**Quick note from the author - this is my first attempt at writing fanfiction. I've done roleplay before, but nothing more than that, so I'm open to suggestions as to what you would like to read in this, and ways I can improve it. I'm a HUGE Catrick shipper (ultimate OTP XD), and though I've never tried writing a fanfic before, I hope you enjoy it all the same.**

Patrick sat against the watchtower's wall, his back warm against the metal. Although there were several people out farming, it was fairly quiet today. Not that he was complaining, of course; when his group, the remains of Woodbury, had first come to the prison, everything had been so busy all the time. People finding jobs, cell blocks being cleared.. but now, just a couple of months later, everybody seemed to have settled in, finally feeling safe. That was a good feeling.

He was one of the eldest kids here, of course, at sixteen. There were a few from his old group, but none older than the age of about eleven. The only other teenager already at the prison had been Carl, Rick's son, who was fourteen, fifteen, perhaps? Though a good deal shorter than Patrick, and clearly a lot more confident. Carl was cool, though, and Patrick was becoming pretty good friends with him, enough so that he was no longer quite so awkward around him as he was with other , he was kind of cute, but Patrick turned a little red at just the thought of that, sitting up properly again. The light began to reflect off of his glasses, which he pushed up his nose again as he glanced over at the fences. There were walkers there, but that didn't make a change. In fact, there were half as many as usual, meaning that fewer people were left to the job of stabbing them at the gates. With a slight sigh, he stood up, not moving from the spot for another minute or so.

...

"Go.. play soccer or something, I don't know!"

"_Dad._"

Rick sighed, getting a little agitated with his son now, but Carl still wanted to stay alone. He was _always_ being told to go play with the Woodbury kids now, perhaps one of the few downsides of letting them join the prison group. Honestly, he didn't mind being with them at times, but the majority were younger than him, and the boy was beginning to miss the adult conversation that he used to have before they were here, often being treated older than he was.

"Just let me read my comics, do some writing, whatever, just leave me _alone_." He tried again, looking up at his dad, who was clearly irritated now.

"Ten minutes. Talk to some other kids for ten minutes, and then I'll leave you alone."

"_Dad-"_

"Don't even _start_ with the '_They're all younger than me'_ crap. Go talk to Patrick or somebody. Might do you some good to talk to somebody your own age."

The man looked down at Carl and then at the floor, shaking his head as he pinched the bridge of his nose. When he lowered his hand again, he turned back to his son. "You're stubborn. I'll give you that." And then, he left.

Frowning again, Carl groaned and leant back against the wall, fully aware that his dad would be back in a few minutes to check if he was still there. He rested his head against the wall for a few seconds before actually getting up. Patrick wasn't _that_ bad. A little dorky perhaps, and kind of awkward, but at times that could be pretty entertaining. As he stood up, the boy picked up the sheriff's hat from the table, looking at it for a short second before placing it on his head and walking out from his small cell.

Outside was the first place he went; the majority of the prison's people were out there most days, either farming or killing walkers at the fence, while kids were left to entertain themselves. The light was actually pretty blinding after spending the rest of the morning inside, but Carl just stood by the doorway for a second, letting his eyes adjust before quickly spotting Patrick over by the watch tower.

...

"Hey, nerd."

Patrick glanced over at Carl and grinned slightly at the nickname.

"Geek, actually. Good to see you,too." He watched as the smaller boy smirked slightly, sitting down in the spot where he had done so a few minutes beforehand.

"Enjoying watching the walkers?"

"Enjoying being a sarcastic asshole?"

It was Carl's turn to grin now as he shrugged, Patrick taking a couple of steps before sitting beside him, looking at him for a second before the smaller boy turned back around to face him.

"What?"

The younger boy was looking at him in slight confusion, leaving Patrick to realize that he had been staring. Mentally cursing himself, he looked back to the floor, flushing slightly red as he shook his head. "Nothing.. Nothing." There was an awkward silence between the two which lasted a few minutes, before Carl finally sighed and stood up, looking around and then back down at Patrick, who was still sitting. "Soccer?" He nodded, also getting to his feet "Soccer."


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: Thankyou so much to everybody who has already read chapter one; twenty eight views overnight is a big thing for me XD My apology for the lack of Catrick-ness in the last chapter, but I kind of believe that the dorky, slow relationships with a build up are generally sweeter:3 I hope you enjoy this chapter, and I'd really appreciate any comments that you may have on what you would like to happen :3**

The ball was flat, Carl had noticed fairly quickly after beginning to play with it. And, annoyingly enough, had a strong, distinct smell of piss to it. It was more for that reason than the actual soccer game that he actually continued to kick it towards Patrick. For a few minutes now, the two boys had been kicking the soccer ball back and forth in a kind of mutual silence. There wasn't a lot to talk about now; no big events had taken place around the prison, and they hadn't been given any new comics for a while.. what else_ was_ there to talk about these days? Eventually, Carl sighed, stopping the ball with his foot as it rolled to him once again, and then looked over at Patrick.

"You ever play soccer at school?"

The older boy looked over and shrugged a little, Carl watching as he pushed up his glasses before speaking.

"I wasn't exactly the most social kid."

The boy nodded, looking down at a ball for a second, then kicking it quickly to Patrick, who jumped slightly as it hit his leg with a little force.

"Scared of the ball, Cinderella?"

"Shut up."

Carl grinned, a little entertained at this, and watched him get the ball from a metre or two away.

"What _were_ you like at school, then?"

... ... ... ... ... ...

At the question, Patrick looked up, only glancing down again to pick up the ball. At school, he had been a geek. A computer nerd. Whatever. Comics, sci-fi shows, alien research.. it was all his sort of thing; it interested him, he would happily admit, regardless of the fact that it hadn't gotten him the best reputation. He was good with computers, too, not that that would have much of an effect on anything anymore. Though he wasn't popular, he never really got bullied either. Called a geek once or twice before. A nerd. A boffin. Nothing _that _bad,though. And he spent a lot of time alone; he preferred it that way. Rather than explaining all this, he just shrugged.

"I liked comics. Sci-fi stuff." He said simply, not going into detail as he dropped the ball in front of him once again, touching it lightly with his foot to keep it still before kicking it over to Carl. "What about you?"

The younger boy stopped the ball, as the pair of them had both done a fair few times now, and began pushing it from foot to foot. Patrick just watched; he could imagine what Carl was like at school fairly easily. One of the popular kids; always with a group of friends, playing soccer or something, though perhaps not an asshole as a fair few kids like that often seemed to be.

"I was a people person, I guess."

That confirmed it, then, Patrick thought with a slight nod, pushing up his glasses and looking at Carl's face rather than the ball now. The other boy was concentrated solely on the ball, dribbling it in small circles on the spot. It was kind of sweet how focused he was. It was a minute or two before Patrick spoke again, though his voice was a little quieter. "Bet you got all the girls, right?" Although he wasn't jumping at the chance to hear about his past girlfriends, he also didn't want the conversation to die out into a pool of awkwardness once again.

Still looking at Carl's face, Patrick noticed him think for a second before slowly stopping the ball and glancing up again, which left Patrick's gaze to drop to the floor; he had been staring again. "Not really." Carl's voice was quiet, too, he noticed as he kicked a pebble along, listening a lot more carefully than the other boy would have thought. "I just.. wasn't all that into girls, you know?" At that, Patrick's heartbeat practically doubled at once. He looked up, a little too quickly.

"You weren't?"

... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...

Carl flooded a bright shade of red. Shit. He had made a damn fool of himself, that was pretty clear, and in front of Patrick. Saying he wasn't into girls? Weren't _girls_ what teenage boys were supposed to talk about?

"I.." He swallowed, looking down at the ball again and shaking his head. "I'm sorry.. I'm going to go back to my cell." After hesitating for a second, he kicked the ball towards Patrick again, turning before quickly beginning to walk in the direction of his cell block. Although he did hear a "Carl, wait-" from behind him, he didn't bother with stopping. Sure, Carl trusted Patrick, and the older boy didn't seem like one to randomly start being an asshole. But he had only known him for, what? Two, three months? People could easily turn out to be the opposite of what you expected, he knew that much. When he was called by Patrick, the pace at which he walked only sped up, not feeling that it would be a fun topic to go into further conversation about. Eventually, the boy found himself in his cell where he just dropped onto the bed, laying on it with a slight groan. Patrick's reaction.. he seemed so.._surprised_. It wasn't, Carl guessed, something that particularly mattered anymore- there were no girls, nor boys, around his age at the prison, excluding Patrick, and the majority of the world was probably dead anyway. It hadn't been something that the boy had really thought about since the world ended, but he was gradually beginning to enjoy being with Patrick more and more and.. dang it; he was beginning to think he had a '_crush'_, as people used to call it when he was at school. Yes, that was right;

Carl had a crush on Patrick.


	3. Chapter 3

There was a chance that Carl might like him. It was a slim chance, but it was there.

That's all that Patrick could think of as he walked through the prison's corridors, not heading anywhere in particular. It would probably be best, the boy had decided, to leave Carl alone for a while, regardless of the fact that he had been given the wrong idea completely. When he ended up in Cell Block C, though, he stopped, lingering in the main doorway. Hesitating for a just a few seconds, Patrick sighed and pushed his glasses up a little before making his way to the younger boy's cell, a little nervous yet still eager to see him, to explain himself.

And perhaps to find out how Carl felt about him.

... ... ... ... ... ... ...

Carl had long since given up on just sitting, regardless of how he felt. Sure, he was embarrassed, and sure, he was kind of upset that things probably wouldn't be the same between him and Patrick, but the pile of comics beside his bed had tempted him to at least _try _to cheer himself up.

As the boy's eyes scanned the colours on the page a few minutes after picking the comic up, a small smile appeared on his lips as he understood the jokes he hadn't when he had first read the book. He turned the page, absorbed in it, and only paused when he heard footsteps stop at his doorway.

"Uh.. Carl?"

He didn't look up at first, but shut his eyes tight when he first recognized the voice; it was Patrick.  
>Finally giving a slight sigh, Carl glanced up at the boy in the doorway, straightening his back and giving a slight nod. "Patrick." He said in a simple response, voice fairly tight; this would be the part where he was judged. Where comments were made about what he had said. Where Patrick would tease about telling his dad.<p>

"Can I come in?"

Hesitating for a second, Carl nodded and swallowed, shuffling up on the bed to make room for Patrick to sit. He stayed quiet, though, watching his hands as he tugged on the ends of his sleeves.

... ... ... ... ... ...

Patrick breathed in tightly before sitting on the other end of the bed, watching his own hands in his lap as he puffed out his cheeks then let the air out, struggling to think of what to say. After a few minutes of the two boys' mutual silence, he sighed and sat up, pushing the glasses up his nose.

"Why'd you run off?"

There. He had said it. Or he had said _something_, at least.  
>Patrick watched the younger boy for a few seconds, waiting for a response as he fiddled with his hands. It was a minute or so before Carl looked back up at him, shrugging slightly and giving a small shake of his head.<br>"I don't know, man." He sighed. The older boy glanced down after the eye contact, listening with his gaze fixed to a point on the bed.  
>"I just.. thought you'd make fun of me or something."<br>Patrick looked at Carl again as he said this, sighing and shaking his head as he looked back down at his hands.

"Dude," The older boy frowned, pushing his glasses up. "I'm not going to make fun of you." His voice was quiet as he looked down at his knees again, hesitating over what he was about to say next before swallowing and not looking up.

"In fact.. I'm not all that 'into girls', either."

... ... ... ... ... ...

Furrowing his eyebrows, Carl glanced back over at Patrick. "You're.. not?"  
>The older boy shook his head without looking up.<br>"Well.. Okay." He breathed in, a little unsure what to say; Patrick could be lying, of course, but he didn't seem like one to lie about something like this; he was too..._polite._ Once again, a couple of minutes silence passed before Carl spoke up again, finally saying what had taken over his mind for the past few weeks.  
>"Patrick?"<br>The older boy glanced up, pushing his glasses up as he turned to look at Carl.  
>"Yeah?"<br>He hesitated, glancing at the floor before back up at Patrick.  
>"I like you, man." Swallowing, he kept his eyes locked on the other's. "I like you a <em>lot.<em> And that.. _that's_ why I ran off yesterday."  
>Carl watched the other boy's face flood red, causing his to do the same as he swallowed again, waiting for a response; he wanted to know what would be said, rather than walking off as he had done before, and never finding out.<p>

... ... ... ... ... ...

"I.." The older boy glanced down at the floor, the red not fading from his cheeks as he tried to form a sentence from everything that was exploding in his mind. _Carl liked him. Carl freaking Grimes_ liked him back. Finally, he realized that he had remained quiet for too long, and his eyes shot straight back up to the boy in front of him. "You _do? _I mean," Patrick swallowed and sat up straight, pushing his glasses up once again. "Man," He shook his head, words still not stringing together properly as he fidgeted, heart practically bursting through his chest. "That's.. That's _amazing._ That's _great,_ in fact, I-" Once more, the boy shook his head, finally just grinning from the relief instead of speaking another jumble of mismatched words.  
>"You like me back?" Carl looked nervous in front of him, though a lot less so than he had done before, sitting on the edge of the bed like an excited child.<p>

Patrick nodded. "Of _course_ I freaking do."


End file.
